A Midwinter Revel
by berelinde
Summary: NWN2 OC-based: Always Another Morning characters share their first Midwinter Festival at Crossroad Keep. It's also Casavir's birthday, which adds to the fun. It's always pleasant, spending the holidays with loved ones.
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer and notes: Obsidian owns everybody but Kayla and a few incidental characters. This story uses Always Another Morning characters and themes, but it's a separate work, since it is out of sequence, and not really necessary to the storyline of the main piece. But it is a holiday story, and appropriate for this time of year. _

_Yes, I know that in the OC, Sal gets the Phoenix Trail, but not in AAM, and not in this story, either. _

_It started out as a one-shot, but it got too long for one chapter, so there's two. Hope you don't mind. This disclaimer/notes thingy applies to both chapters._

_Happy Holidays, to all at FF!_

* * *

Midwinter morning dawned crisp and cold, but by midday, the clouds had rolled in, and the first flakes of snow had begun to fall. By mid-afternoon, Crossroad Keep was blanketed in white, with more snow falling by the moment.

The living quarters of the Keep itself were still unfinished, so they had simply moved in to the Phoenix Trail in the meantime. It would probably be spring before it warmed up enough for the mortar to set, and construction could not resume until it did, but Kayla was content. The workmen's barracks, and the Greycloaks', were finished long before construction on the Keep itself was begun, so the workers and the Greycloaks, at least were warm and dry this season. She had sent them each a pair of dressed and trussed pigs to roast for their holiday dinner, and barrels of good ale to wash it down.

Breakfast that morning had been a merry affair. This was Kayla's first Midwinter at Crossroad Keep, and she had observed the tradition of distributing gifts to her staff and allies. She had given Kana armor, and Master Veedle a fur-lined robe. Calindra, the trader from Port Llast whose partner's remains they had found in the cave in Duskwood, now supervised Pentin and the other miners. She had received a new wagon. Orlen and the other farmers who had made Crossroad Keep their home all got practical things, new tools, woolen tunics, or heavy blankets. Deekin had been overjoyed simply to have a roof over his head, but he had been in raptures over the slightly garish purple tunic Kayla had given him. Khelgar had helped her pick out Jacoby's present. He got a mechanical bellows for his forge. Kayla sincerely hoped that everyone who got a new tunic would not wear them all the same day, because she gave Eldario, the armorer, one too, as well as a fleece over-tunic. Kayla had no idea what to give Katriona, her first sergeant. What the ranger really wanted was Casavir, but Kayla could not very well tie a ribbon around Casavir's neck and present him as a gift. If it had been that easy, she would be giving herself a present this year. So she gave Katriona a new cloak and a longbow.

Muldoon, the innkeeper of the Phoenix Trail, had been difficult to shop for, as well. He had run the inn before Garius came, and had gone into hiding during his tenure. Once the villagers had started returning, he had reopened his doors, but his heart just was not in it. He was glad for the custom Kayla and her companions provided, and pleased enough that the villagers were coming to the inn again, but he was sick of Crossroad Keep. Kayla could not say she blamed him. The Phoenix Trail was within sight of the Keep's ruined facade, and it was a depressing view. She promised him that there would be changes, once spring came and the workmen could start making more obvious repairs, but he wanted to leave. He had already stated his intention to sell the Phoenix Trail as soon as he could find a suitable buyer and relocate, perhaps to Neverwinter, or even Waterdeep. Given that he wanted to move, Kayla was reluctant to give him something for the inn, or anything that would be difficult to move, so she gave him a new tunic and a new pair of boots.

Her companions, at least, were easier to shop for. They were not her vassals, exactly, so it was traditional to give them presents on their birthdays, which she was already doing, rather than at Midwinter, but it didn't feel right buying presents for her staff and withholding them from her friends, so she bought each a gift.

She gave Casavir a fleece-lined robe and a pair of linen nightshirts. They had not resumed their former habit of sharing a bed, but she remembered that Casavir did not have much by way of night linen. She had separate birthday presents for him, though, so she gave him his holiday presents at breakfast to avoid confusion. Neeshka got a fur-lined tunic to keep out the chill, since the tiefling preferred to wear a second tunic rather than encumber herself with a cloak. Khelgar's present had been delayed by snow in the mountains, but it had arrived just that morning: a keg of the dwarven firewhiskey he had been missing since they left Neverwinter. She hesitated to buy clothing for Grobnar, since his tastes were rather particular, and somewhat more flamboyant than just about anything that Kayla would buy, but she had risked buying him a hat to go with his lavender doublet. It was a slightly darker purple than his doublet, and had several brightly colored plumes held to one side by a jeweled pin. Sand said that it made him dizzy, but Grobnar loved it. She got Sand a book of elven verse. She would not know good from bad, there, but Casavir had helped her choose it, and Sand was pleased with it. Kayla had a difficult time finding the right gift for Elanee. She dressed simply, and seemed quite content with the gear she already had, but Kayla got lucky. She found a heavy woolen over-tunic and hood in a deep forest green that Kayla thought would be suit her, and might be welcome while exploring the countryside around Crossroad Keep. Shandra got one practical gift, a fleece-lined overtunic that would fit over her armor, and one gift that just struck Kala as pretty, a necklace of brightly colored glass beads. Kayla thought about giving Qara a book as a joke, but decided that the holidays were no time to be cruel, so in the end, she bought her a silk dressing gown and slippers. Zhjaeve was puzzled by the custom of gift-giving to commemorate specific occasions, but she had received the fur-lined cloak Kayla gave her graciously. Bishop would have been happy with the same thing she got Khelgar, but Kayla wanted to give him something he would still have a month after Midwinter, so she gave him a new waterproof quiver and a score of lightly enchanted arrows.

But breakfast was over, and everyone had gone about their solitary pursuits for the day. They would all meet for the feast later, but the morning and afternoon of Midwinter day were much like those of any other day, except that no one was expected to work. Kayla did not have much official business today, so she stayed in the common room for a while, visiting with Shandra, Neeshka, and Grobnar, and the villagers that had come up to the Keep for gossip or a pint of ale, but she got restless. Eventually, she went up to her room, and busied herself mending gear and embroidering leaves around the neck and sleeves of one of Casavir's tunics.

Kayla put her embroidery aside and looked out through a clear patch of the frost-covered windows onto the snowy courtyard of the Phoenix Trail. Casavir was just crossing the courtyard, his arms laden with firewood. Khelgar followed, bearing a similar burden. At least Kayla assumed it was Khelgar. His stack was so large she could not even see who carried it, but what other dwarf would be out splitting firewood with Casavir in a snowstorm? She waved, and watched Casavir's face light in a grin of recognition, though he could not very well wave back. She rushed downstairs to help them add what they brought to the already massive woodpile.

Their industry surprised her. It was Midwinter. No one worked today... at least that was how it was supposed to go.

"Today is your birthday, Cas!" she chided him, taking a couple pieces off the top of his stack and adding them to the woodpile.

"We needed the firewood," Casavir replied somewhat untruthfully, glancing guiltily at Khelgar.

Kayla just helped them stack the wood, then kissed Casavir's cheek when they were done. His cheek was chilly, despite his recent exertion, and the nap of his whiskers chafed her lips pleasantly. She stretched for a peck at the other side, and was brought up short at the smell of something familiar on his breath.

"Have you two been drinking?" she laughed, wrapping one arm around Casavir's waist and the other around Khelgar's shoulders.

"It was my idea, lass," Khelgar admitted, "so don't be blaming Cas. I had a flask of _special_ firewhiskey put aside, and a lad doesn't turn... how old _are_ you, Cas?... every day."

"Oh, I'm not going to scold you!" Kayla chuckled, steering them toward the inn. "But you didn't have to be so secretive. You could have sat in one of your rooms and drank it where it's warm."

"Nah," Khelgar waved the thought away, "you can't be drinking this stuff while you're warm, or you might do yourself an injury. Say, Cas, you feeling any better now?"

"Much, thank you," Casavir replied somewhat muzzily. "The ringing in my ears has stopped completely."

"It's a bit much for a human constitution," Khelgar whispered, "leastways, his. But I'm almost certain he'll be all right by the time you get around to... er... giving him his presents."

"How special was this firewhiskey?" Kayla asked, eying Casavir's happy, but slightly dazed expression.

"Nothing that'll do any lasting harm," Khelgar grinned. "It's pretty much the same as the normal stuff, except for the honey and the secret bits of plants my clan puts in it. Say, Cas, I think I left my cloak over by the wagon. Want to keep me company? We can pick up another load while we're there."

"I'll help," Kayla volunteered.

"You'll catch your death, my lady," Casavir protested. "You are not wearing a cloak."

"Ah, let her come," Khelgar grinned. "Another nip will take the chill off a treat, and this is the first decent snow we've had this year."

"The Keep is beautiful, all covered in white," Casavir agreed, to Kayla's surprise. It was not that he did not appreciate natural beauty. Within days of meeting him, he had proven that he did. It was more that he rarely talked about it.

"To hells with the firewood, then," Khelgar chuckled. "We've got enough to last us for tendays already, with what we split yesterday and the day before. Let's go get Neesh and just take a walk."

Kayla agreed readily to that, though Casavir insisted that she stop by her room and bundle up against the cold. If she stole a few more kisses while he wrapped her cloak around her, he did not complain, and Khelgar appeared to have taken a sudden keen interest in plaster-work.

They found Neeshka in her room, bored and eager for any excuse to get out and about a bit. She was looking forward to the party they planned for that evening, Kayla knew, but that was still half an afternoon away.

They went first to the overgrown orchards, and spent a merry little while seeing who could best rattle the branches to drop a load of snow on his fellows. After that, they made their way toward the ruined temple, and Casavir fretted over its neglected state.

"Tyr should have this place, my lady," he said. "It will take much work to restore it to its former glory, but it was untouched by Garius' evil, and there is a holiness about it still."

"I agree, dear one," Kayla said softly. He was most certainly right. The still-falling snow muffled all sound, but the silence and stillness of the place was more spiritual than physical. It had the feel of quiet anticipation about it, as if it was just sleeping, waiting for a kind of metaphorical springtime to flourish and bloom. The roof was gone, and the altar covered with snow, like everything else, but Kayla could feel that the gods had not abandoned this place, though men had long since left it to ruin. And why should Tyr not have it? The tiny chapel on the roof of the keep might also be restored, and that would be a more fitting place to worship Lathander, with its many windows and pale stone paving. If the Keep ever attracted more Lathandrites than the chapel could house, whether by migration or conversion, well, it was always best to worship Lathander out of doors, anyway.

"Hey, Cas!" Neeshka called. "Look what I found!"

Kayla watched as she passed him a cloth-wrapped parcel. He opened it gingerly, as if he feared it might sting him, but then he grinned, and held up its contents for inspection.

It was a simple thing, a crystal lens in a frame of silver, but Kayla cringed at what it must have cost Neeshka. Casavir loved to read, though for may months, he had been holding his book further and further away. She had bought him a magnifying glass.

"And you found this here, my tiny marvel?" Casavir asked her with mock severity.

"Well, maybe not," Neeshka hedged, "but I did find it... in a shop. I hope you like it. Happy birthday, Cas."

They moved to give each other the kiss of thanks, but Neeshka grimaced.

"Sorry, Cas," she laughed. "Love ya like a brother, but if you get any closer, I'll be itching for a tenday."

"Forgive me, Neeshka," Casavir smiled. "I would embrace you, but I would not wish to give you a rash for your generosity. It is a wonderful gift, and I thank you."

Kayla grinned herself as Casavir held out his hand to Neeshka, with his smallest finger extended. Neeshka locked pinkies with him, and they shook hands solemnly before Neeshka burst out laughing.

"And do you think Old Tyr will mind a bit of celebration, to mark the aging of his gofer?" Khelgar interjected irreverently. "I've got enough left for four, I reckon, and it does take the chill off."

"It might also take the paint off, if you wanted to put it to baser purposes," Casavir laughed, "but our god is not a dour god."

"Well let's pass around the cheer, and drink to serving our gods and each other for the next twelve-month!" Khelgar said expansively, and held out his flask to Casavir.

When Kayla's turn came, she took a sip, and blinked at its potency. It was no stronger than the firewhiskey she had given Khelgar for Midwinter, but it was silky sweet, and tasted of herbs that suggested enhancements normal firewhiskey did not offer. It also took away even the remembrance of cold, and left her feeling content, energized, and more than a little interested in drawing Casavir off alone.

"Ah, what do you want from humans?" Khelgar laughed, stuffing the flask back in his belt. "Why, there's enough left for two more rounds, at least, at the rate you're going, but we'll save it 'til we're good and cold again."

Without warning, Casavir seized Kayla by the hand and led her to the snow-covered altar. He thrust out both his hands, under the snow, pinning the hand he still held beneath his. She felt the cold stone beneath her palm, and felt the remnants of power lingering in the altar. For a moment, they did not stand in a half-collapsed temple, but in a whole one, surrounded by light and the serene sound of chanting.

She could feel his longing, to be surrounded once more by those who shared his faith. She had seldom known what it was like, herself. Growing up, it had just been her and Brother Merring. In Neverwinter, of course, she had worshiped with others, and even a large congregation, and she had been awed by the experience, but for the most part, she had been alone. Casavir, however, had been raised in a religious community. He must miss the feeling of unity he knew then.

"Soon, Cas," she promised. "Much will change, in the spring."

He smiled hopefully, and let go of her hand so he could put an arm around her waist. She shivered as he disturbed her cloak.

"You are cold, my lady," he observed. "Shall we go back to the inn?"

"Maybe we should get walking again," she admitted. "It is getting darker, and you might want to change before the feast tonight."

Casavir groaned.

"Oh, come on, Cas," Kayla chuckled. "We talked about this. It's Midwinter, and it's your birthday. You can't hide in your room all night."

"Damn straight!" Khelgar agreed. "If I've got to put on my good tunic and let this one steal the same three gold pieces over and over all night, you do, too!"

"Hey!" Neeshka protested. "I thought you didn't know about that!"

"Come on, Neesh," Khelgar chuckled. "How could I not know? I mean, you're practically hanging off me all night long. There's only so much a dwarf can chalk up to Ironfist charm."

"Ironfist charm?" Neeshka retorted. "You have _got_ to be kidding!"

"I can't help it if women find me irresistible," Khelgar shrugged. "I have _allure_."

"A lure is something you use fishing," Neeshka said. "Must be true. You sure smell like something that's been rolling around in the bilge for days."

Kayla and Casavir started back toward the temple entrance. When Neeshka and Khelgar got to heckling each other, they could go on for quite some time. They enjoyed it, but lately, Kayla had begun to feel like she was eavesdropping when she overheard it.

This time, the cold seemed to discourage them, or at least Neeshka.

"You can stay here and talk about your manly charms all day," Neeshka's laughing voice said from the other side of the tumbled-down wall, "but I'm going back inside, where it's warm."

"Ah, all right," Khelgar grumbled. "Guess that's enough fresh air for one day."

Halfway back to the inn, Kayla remembered a conversation she and Casavir had months before, about the lack of snow in Neverwinter. She fell back a bit and scooped up a handful of snow.

Her first snowball hit Casavir squarely in the middle of his back. He spun around, just in time to catch her second snowball in his chest. He looked surprised, but Khelgar roared with laughter. Soon they were all pelting each other with snowballs, laughing hard and slipping and sliding as they tried to dodge each others' throws.

Kayla ducked wrong, and got a particularly well-packed one right in the eye, but she brushed away the water and squinted at her opponents, still giggling.

"Who threw that?" she laughed.

"I think I did," Casavir admitted apologetically. "Did I hurt you?"

"Payback is going to cost you!" she cried, and lobbed her next snowball at him hard, missing by yards. She scooped up more snow and ran after him. She knew she would never catch him, but it was fun, chasing him around the trees.

Inexplicably, he stopped and turned to face her. She was moving too fast to stop, though, and the ground was too slick, in any case. She ran into him, and knocked them both off balance. He grappled her as he fell.

They came to rest with Casavir lying on his back in the snow and Kayla lying across him. She twisted until she sat straddling him, and pinned his arms to the ground.

"You're right where I want you now!" she laughed, and planted a snowy kiss on his surprised face.

"Is that so?" he chuckled. With a twist and a lurch, their positions were reversed, and it was Kayla on her back, with Casavir lying on top of her, holding her wrists and grinning.

He kissed her lightly, at first, but, with a groan and a shudder, he abandoned his usual reserve, and threw himself into the kiss with a passion that left her gasping.

She tried to free her hands, intending to wrap her arms around his neck, but he recoiled at her struggles, and looked down on her with shock and horror on his face.

"Forgive me!" he gasped, releasing her wrists and jumping away from her. "I go too far."

"No, Cas," she sighed, sitting up herself. "That was incredible... it's only that I wanted to hold you while you were... er... sorry, Neesh... and Khelgar."

Khelgar and Neeshka were standing several yards behind Casavir, snickering and trying to look inconspicuous.

"Don't mind us!" Neeshka chortled.

Casavir glared at Neeshka reproachfully and got to his feet. He held out a hand to help Kayla to hers, then brushed the snow off her.

"I do not know whether I should apologize for playing so rough or for being so forward," he said softly.

"Don't you dare apologize for either!" Kayla replied. "But you did manage to get a nice load of snow down my smalls. I'm freezing."

Khelgar took out his flask again and passed it around.

This dose hit Kayla a lot harder than the last, though. She felt quite warm, and could not seem to stop herself from giggling at the snowflakes falling onto her face.

"Race you to the inn?" she asked Neeshka.

"Oh no," Neeshka laughed. "We'll end up in a heap, after that... not that you two need the help."

Neeshka had a point. Casavir had his arm around her, and was using his other hand to brush snow and hair out of her face. His pupils looked larger than usual, no doubt from the special properties of Khelgar's firewhiskey cordial, and from the closeness of his face and the softness of his expression, he looked perfectly willing to kiss her again. But she was not the only one who had been soaked by their roll in the snow. Casavir's cloak and tunic were both coated in caked snow, and when she put her arm around him, she could feel the melting runoff trickling down his back. He might not feel the cold now, but she did not know if his muscles would stiffen later as a result of it.

"Maybe we'd better get in where it's warm," Kayla admitted. "And get out of these wet things."

"I'm still dry," Neeshka said, but it was too late.

With a bellow of laughter, Khelgar dumped a giant fistful of snow down the back of Neeshka's tunic. Her squawk was half laughter and half fury, and now it was Neeshka's turn to chase Khelgar through the trees. Neeshka was much faster than Khelgar, however, and caught him easily. She tickled him until he was gasping, but he did not try to escape. He just stood there laughing while she tickled him until he decided he had enough, then pinned her arms in a bear-hug that lifted her off the ground.

Khelgar slung Neeshka over his shoulder and started back up the trail toward the Keep, still laughing while Neeshka squealed and pounded her fists ineffectually against his backside.

He carried her all the way back to the Keep, with Kayla and Casavir following, then set her down in the snowy courtyard of the Phoenix Trail.

"Last one to the common room has to buy the first round?" Khelgar suggested.

"Ha!" Neeshka snorted, trying to get her breath back through her laughter. "You'd better buy me _all_ my drinks tonight, after hauling me up here like that!"

"Suits me," Khelgar grunted his agreement, "but you'll have to match me. Think you're up to it?"

"Any day!" Neeshka chuckled. "See you all back in the common room?"

"Let me change and shave," Casavir said, leaning in closer to Kayla.

She kissed his stubbly cheek and squeezed his hand.

"I'll come get you," Kayla replied, then dashed upstairs.

She changed her clothing as quickly as she could and brushed out her hair, then dug around in her clothing chest until she found Casavir's presents. She hoped that he was still in his room. She wanted to give them to him in private.

Casavir answered the door on her second knock.

"My lady," he greeted her, "I was just coming to get you."

"Wait just a moment, Cas," she said, closing the door behind her. "I haven't given you your presents yet."

"You already gave me presents," he protested, blushing.

"That was for Midwinter," she smiled. "You have to let me give you something else for your birthday. Now this one isn't really a birthday present. I should have gotten one for you before."

She handed him a fine silver chain.

"For your ring," she explained.

"Thank you, my lady," he said, blushing.

"Don't thank me yet," she grinned. "I've still got one thing left to give you."

She watched eagerly as he unwrapped the second item.

"It's beautiful," he said appreciatively. "I... my lady, this is a fine scabbard, and the belt, as well."

"I'm glad you like it," she beamed. "Your father's dagger is a beautiful weapon. It needed a prettier scabbard to show it off. I had Jacoby make it, and Sand put a charm on it, for luck. Eldario made the belt, though."

"Thank you..." Casavir said softly, stepping closer to kiss her cheek. When she kissed him back, he moved his face so that her lips met his mouth, rather than his cheek. She startled, but he simply embraced her and kept on kissing her.

She moaned softly, and wrapped her arms around his back.

He seemed to have lost himself in the moment, and stroked her, running his hands over her back and along her flanks, creeping forward until his thumbs grazed the outer edges of her breasts. He shuddered, and pulled her against his body. She could feel each ragged breath he drew, but her own was far from steady. She ached for him.

He bent and began to kiss her neck, raising his hands to places that made her tremble. Encouraged by the passion that seemed to be moving him, she guided her own hands down his back, tentatively stroking his backside.

He groaned and pulled away from her, letting his arms fall to his sides and turning his head away.

"Don't stop," she pleaded. "Please... We're so close..."

"I must," he gasped. "It's too much..."

"Please, Cas," she begged. "I want you so badly..."

"It's the firewhiskey," he said, gulping. "I should know better than to come near you when I've been drinking."

"Oh, Cas," she sighed, though she knew the moment was gone, "can't you let yourself be happy this once?"

"I am happy," he replied. "Disaster has been averted, and your honor is intact, though I wish I had exerted more control over myself earlier. I am sorry for for imposing myself upon you."

"You haven't imposed yourself upon me," she protested. "If I thought it would do any good, I'd tear off my clothing and paint arrows and runes on my body saying 'Touch here'. Haven't you noticed that the only one that objects to your caresses is you?"

He closed his eyes and shuddered violently when she got to the part about tearing off her clothing and painting runes on her skin, but whether from desire or horror, she would never know.

"I object to behaving like an animal," he reproached himself. "My lady, please... I know that your innocence precludes your understanding of base desires, but I can only warn you that the pleasant, tender feelings stirred by such caresses -"

"Oh, no, Cas," she stopped him. "Not again. If you keep going down that path, we're just going to end up arguing and today is your birthday. As much as I wish I could pound some sense into your skull, it might be better if we just pulled ourselves together and went down to dinner."

"Yes, my lady," he agreed, then glanced down. "It is well that winter clothing is so bulky... though perhaps I had better carry my cloak."

For a moment, she wondered how he could change the subject so quickly, or how he could possibly be cold, but then she laughed. He was not worried about being warm enough.

"No one can see anything, dear one," she assured him. "And believe me, I looked."

"I do not know whether to be relieved or offended," Casavir chuckled. "Will you take my arm?"

_And any other part you offer,_ Kayla thought wickedly, but she knew better than to say it aloud. For all that Casavir still insisted on maintaining the chastity of their relationship, he appeared to be more comfortable with at least the idea of intimacy. Three months before, he would never have made a joke about whether or not his silhouette was acceptable.

Some progress was better than none. She took his arm and allowed him to lead her down to the common room.


	2. Chapter 2

By the time they reached the landing, Kayla felt composed enough to talk about something other than her frustration with Casavir.

"So did you like your first snowball fight?" she asked him.

"I did," Casavir grinned, "though we should work on your aim. You hit barely two times in five, and when you do hit, your missiles lack force."

"They're snowballs, Cas!" she laughed. "I wasn't trying to take your head off. But I was never any good at it... Merciful gods, what has Khelgar got?"

"It looks like a horn," Casavir observed. "Though I would not have liked to have fought its former owner for it."

Khelgar strode across to them and thrust the horn at Casavir.

"Happy birthday, lad," Khelgar grinned. "The horn's for you. It came from an auroch, and my clan did the fittings. Thing is, with a horn like this, you can't set it down until it's empty, so drink up."

"Thank you, Khelgar," Casavir said, though he eyed the full-to-overflowing horn with trepidation. "It is a princely gift... am I permitted to enlist aid in emptying this?"

"You'd better," Khelgar laughed. "Your bladder would burst before you got to the bottom, otherwise. When it's this full, it won't matter much, but when it gets lighter, you'd better remember to keep the point down, or you might drown in the flood."

Casavir took a long pull from it, and passed it back to Khelgar for his turn.

"That'll keep him busy for a while," Khelgar chuckled, watching Casavir approach Shandra with the still-full horn. "It holds two gallons."

"Are you trying to kill him, Khelgar?" Kayla scolded. "You know Cas can't drink even half a gallon of ale in an evening, and on top of all that firewhiskey, too..."

"He'll pass it around," Khelgar shrugged. "And you know he'd just sit in a corner all night, otherwise."

Kayla could only smile at Khelgar's rather fuzzy logic, but Neeshka was on her way over to them, with a drink in her hands and a grin on her face. She greeted Neeshka with a kiss on the cheek and laughed along with them for their first round. She would have been perfectly happy drinking with them the rest of the night, but it felt odd doing it without Casavir. He was still passing his new horn to friends, and indeed, to anyone who stayed still long enough, though he was taking a drink himself every time the horn changed hands, and looking back at her every once in a while, perhaps to see if she was going to catch up with him. So she excused herself to Neeshka, clapped Khelgar on the shoulder, and set off after Casavir as he made his rounds of the common room. She caught up with him in front of Bishop.

"I've got a present for you, paladin," Bishop drawled, holding up what looked like a metal spoon with the handle cut off.

Casavir took it suspiciously.

"And this would be..." Casavir sighed, apparently bracing for the insult that must soon follow any present from Bishop.

"Why, it's a new codpiece," Bishop laughed. "Can't have you bruising your goods, can we?"

"Just ignore him," Kayla said softly, though she groaned at yet another size joke. Could they think of nothing better to bicker about? Still, it was better than watching Bishop bait Casavir about her. "Can I have some of your ale?"

"Of course, my lady," Casavir replied promptly, and, stuffing Bishop's rude present in his belt pouch, he held the horn for her while she drank.

"Have some of mine, Princess," Bishop leered, pushing his hips forward provocatively, "but you'll have to suck it through a pipe. I'll hold it for you, though, if it's too big for you to handle."

"You're made of ale, all right, if you think I'd want my lips around that gutter-spout," Kayla laughed.

"The ale just helps me last longer," Bishop grinned, reaching around Kayla's waist and pulling her closer. "Why, just a little more, and I could last all night, even if it is the longest one of the year. But good eye you've got there. It's ugly as a one-eyed gargoyle, but it's hard as stone, with the right incentive."

Bishop rubbed against her suggestively, but if he was trying to get a reaction from Casavir, he was wasting his time. Casavir was looking at Bishop, but his gaze was fixed on the point where Bishop's neck met his body.

"Come away, my lady," Casavir interjected, his face mottled with suppressed anger. "Sand and Elanee have just arrived, and you wished to hear of their progress with the cache of scrolls the builders found."

"You did very well, Cas," Kayla whispered encouragingly, once they had moved beyond the sharp-eared ranger's hearing. "You conducted yourself with admirable restraint. I'm proud of you."

"I keep the peace because you desire it," Casavir said shortly. "I would have struck him for his cheek... and for willfully brushing against you."

"Bishop will be Bishop," Kayla sighed. "So he's got the right equipment for his gender. That does not make him a marvel. Really, Cas, he's only trying to get you angry."

"He... by Tyr's hand, my lady, I knew not the extent of his lewdness. I thought he touched you with his hip, nothing more. Had I known of his wickedness -"

"Then it is well you did not know," Kayla interrupted. "Cas, please. You're making too much of absolutely nothing. I don't care what Bishop rubs against me, I'm not going to bed with him. And look. He's already off bothering Shandra... poor Shandra. We should see if we can help her get away from him."

"Better he should trouble Shandra... " Casavir said, then blanched. "Forgive me, my lady. I do not wish ill for Shandra, nor do I mean to imply any fault in her, but... my lady, if Bishop is bent on mischief, I should rather spare you."

"I know you mean well, Cas," Kayla replied. "But you know Shandra's been a little sensitive around him lately..."

"I would as soon let my anger with him fade somewhat before going near him again," Casavir admitted. "We will speak with Sand and Elanee, and then, if he has not moved on to a more amenable target, we can intercede."

"All right," Kayla agreed, trying to hide her reluctance. Casavir was showing restraint in not placing himself in a place where confrontation with Bishop would be unavoidable.

"Well, here's the birthday boy himself!" Sand greeted them. "I understand that is traditional to offer congratulations on the anniversary of a human's emergence from the womb. While I do not claim to understand the custom, since the mother was responsible for all the effort involved... and the father, some months earlier... I do congratulate you on a job well done. I have prepared a token to commemorate the event."

Kayla and Elanee laughed, but Casavir bowed as solemnly as a man holding an auroch horn full of ale could manage and accepted the parcel Sand handed him. He set it on the table and handed Kayla his horn so he could open it. It turned out to be an exquisitely carved chess set.

"I suppose we'll both have to wait until we're sober to play a match," Sand mused.

"And we shall, as soon as possible," Casavir agreed readily. "I look forward to getting much use out of it. Thank you."

"Before you have your hands full again, let me give you mine," Elanee smiled, handing him a pair of heavy felt boots.

"You won't need them quite yet," she explained, "but once we move into the Keep, you're going to want something warm on your feet. And you might get some use out of them this year, come to think of it. It's a bother, lacing up a pair of boots just to walk to the outhouse, and good felt stays warm even if it gets wet from the snow."

"A very thoughtful gift, Elanee," Casavir replied, kissing her cheek. "I thank you."

"Ooh, is it time for presents?" Grobnar gushed, holding out a brightly wrapped parcel. Kayla was pleased to see that he wore his lavender doublet, and the hat she had given him. "I wanted to have another try at the special shielded codpiece, but Jacoby wouldn't let me use his forge."

Grobnar paused, then giggled at Casavir's horrified expression.

"Just my little joke, sir paladin," he laughed. "Open it. It's perfectly safe."

Regardless of Grobnar's assurances, or perhaps because of them, Casavir passed off the chess set and the boots for Kayla to carry, and unwrapped his present very carefully. He stared at the contents a moment, then held them aloft for inspection. It was a pair of incredibly shiny armored gauntlets.

"Eldario says they won't rust," Grobnar said. "Thought they might be handy, when you're using the greatsword."

"Indeed!" Casavir agreed. "The clamshell shape offers outstanding protection. Thank you, Grobnar. I have grown surprisingly attached to my fingers, and your gift ensures that I will enjoy their company for many years to come."

"I can appreciate that," Grobnar assented. "A bard learns quite early to protect his hands. I have also prepared a song for the occasion, but I thought I might wait for a larger crowd for that."

"In the meantime, will you accept a drink from my cup... or perhaps I should say horn?" Casavir asked.

"I'd be delighted," Grobnar cheerfully accepted.

The horn was almost as big as Grobnar himself, and probably weighed about as much, but Grobnar managed it deftly.

"With that, I must depart," Grobnar said. "My audience awaits, and I've just the tale for a Midwinter evening. The longest night of the year. Midwinter was made for bards!"

With that, the jauntily dressed gnome left, and Casavir stuck one gauntlet down the top of each of the boots Kayla carried. She was beginning to wish their friends had all given him small presents, since it looked like she would be lugging them around, but he needed his hands free to receive them, and it made her happy to see Casavir grinning at each new gift.

Kayla would have been perfectly happy to sit down with Sand and Elanee and talk about the scrolls they were deciphering, or any other subject, but she was prevented by the sudden hush. Sand and Elanee sat motionless, and stared at a point midway between her and Casavir. She turned.

"They told me today is your birthday," Katriona said to Casavir. "You never said."

"I never knew the precise date of my birth," Casavir replied, though his features were grim. "My lady thought it a suitable day."

"It's the shortest day of the year, and the coldest," Katriona reflected with only partial accuracy. "But never mind. I have a gift for you."

"I thank you for the kind thought," Casavir said, "but I cannot accept."

"Take it, Casavir," she urged. "It isn't very gentlemanly to deny a person the pleasure of giving."

Once more, Casavir passed Kayla his drinking horn. She watched him take Katriona's present, but he moved as if he had heavy chains wrapped around his hands. He unwrapped the parcel, looked once at the contents, and put it back in Katriona's hands.

"Now I _know_ that I cannot accept this," he said.

"You admired it once," Katriona protested. "You should have it. It looks better on a man's cloak, anyway."

"Katriona," he sighed. "You said this brooch has been in your family for generations. If you insist a man must wear it, give it to your son, when you have one."

"So that's the way it's going to be with you?" she asked bitterly. "We are equals, now, but that was never the problem, was it?"

"Katriona..." Casavir began, "Katriona, may we speak privately?"

"Why?" she snapped, her voice rising in volume. "You can say it here just as well. And what do you care if I humiliate myself?"

"Katriona, please," Casavir said calmly, "I beg you, do not do this to yourself. I am not worth it."

"You've got that right!" Katriona retorted, her voice breaking. She opened her mouth as if she was going to say something else, but she apparently thought better of it. She turned abruptly and walked away, not looking back.

Kayla exhaled, suddenly aware that she had been holding her breath. The Phoenix Trail had become very quiet, while Casavir and Katriona were speaking, and everyone was looking at Casavir. Casavir himself looked wretched.

"It never changes," he sighed.

"Should I speak with her?" Kayla asked. The normal sounds of the Phoenix Trail were starting to resume.

"No," Casavir said heavily. "It would do no good, and I fear she would resent what she would perceive as an intrusion. Forgive me, my lady. I had not anticipated this complication in bringing Katriona to Crossroad Keep."

"She _is_ good with the Greycloaks," Kayla muttered uncomfortably. At the time they recruited Katriona as a sergeant, she and Casavir had argued about the advisability of bringing her to Crossroad Keep, given her infatuation with him, but Casavir had assured her that it would not interfere with the performance of her duty. And it had not interfered. Katriona was helping with the training now, and leading whatever missions took the Greycloaks beyond the walls of the Keep itself, and she was doing admirably well. She and Casavir could even work together without friction. It was only in social settings, like now, that there was any kind of awkwardness, and there were few enough of those.

"That she is," Casavir agreed. "They are coming along well, though their training was already good, when they came to us."

"Have you tried talking to her?" Elanee asked.

"Yes," Casavir replied. "I apologize, Elanee, Sand. How goes the translation of the scrolls?"

"About the same as yesterday," Elanee smiled. "We haven't so much as looked at one, today."

"It will be so much easier once you get the library finished," Sand said. "I shudder to think of what the mice are eating, while we wait for spring."

"I haven't wanted to send workmen in there until we get the walls shored up," Kayla answered. "All we need is a collapse..."

"Ah, well," Sand sighed, taking another sip of his wine, "I suppose it can't be helped. And Jaral does enjoy chasing the furry little bibliovores, when I let him into the Keep. And there are those scrolls to keep us busy in the meantime... and this lovely bottle of Saerloonian Topaz. Wherever did you find it, Elanee?"

"I don't think I'm going to tell you quite yet," Elanee giggled. "But there's another one just like it hidden somewhere in the Keep, and I thought you might like to go looking for it later."

"Oh, you wicked woman!" Sand laughed. "We'll have to go find it at once! It wouldn't do to have it freeze before we can drink it."

Sand got to his feet with the exaggerated care of one who has already enjoyed his share of wine and seized Elanee's hand.

"Excuse us, my dear," he said to Kayla. "There's a precious vintage in danger of death by broken flask."

"Be careful!" Kayla called after them. "Parts of the Keep still aren't safe!"

They just waved farewell and dashed off to get their cloaks.

"They will be all right," Casavir said, taking her hand. "They have been all over the Keep in the last few tendays. They know where the loose stones are."

"I know," Kayla sighed, "but I would never forgive myself if they came to harm because I couldn't get the repairs done before winter set in."

"We had precious little time for that," Casavir reminded her. "And you know how long it took us... or Neeshka, I should say, since it was all her skill... to find and disarm all the traps Garius left for us. Not that I fault her for the delay! May the gods bless her for her thoroughness. I certainly do, every time one of us sets foot inside."

"You know," Kayla reflected, "Elanee never used to like to drink. She used to give Khelgar a terrible time, if he came in smelling like ale."

"Familiarity changes people," Casavir said sagely. "It emboldens them to try things they might otherwise avoid, around those with whom they are less at ease."

"Is that so, dear one?" she whispered, raising his hand to her face, turning it in hers, and kissing his palm.

"Unless they fear something more than the censure of strangers," Casavir replied, swallowing hard. "My lady..."

"I know, Cas," she sighed, letting go of his hand. "I know. Let's go see how Shandra is faring."

"Yes," he agreed reluctantly. "She is still speaking with Bishop, I see... though she does not look distressed."

To Kayla's surprise, she found that Casavir was right. Shandra and Bishop were talking animatedly when they arrived, but they both appeared to be in perfectly good spirits. Shandra was laughing at some joke of Bishop's, and Bishop was refilling her cup from a pitcher on the table.

" - and you should have seen the look on his face," Bishop snickered.

"That wasn't very nice," Shandra laughed, "and you're _so_ wrong about that, by the way."

"Oh, yeah?" Bishop leered. "How would _you_ know?"

"Never mind," Shandra said quickly. "Oh, hi Kayla, hi Cas. Pull up a couple of chairs and have a drink with us."

Ignoring Casavir's sharply drawn breath, Kayla smiled and pulled over a bench big enough to share.

"Don't mind if I do," she said, sitting down on one end of the bench. "So, having a good time?"

"Not bad," Bishop shrugged. "It'd be better without the stiff."

"C'mon, Bishop," Shandra chuckled, nudging Bishop's shoulder, "give it a rest. Have an ale instead."

Shandra slopped some ale into Bishop's cup, and put out another two for Kayla and Casavir, but Kayla shook her head when Shandra looked like she was about to fill them, pointing to Casavir's horn, which was still almost two-thirds full.

"Hey, Cas," Shandra hiccuped, "never gave your your birthday present. Forgot to wrap it, but here."

She passed him what looked like a pile of twisted bar stock, but she did not wait until he had a secure hold on it before letting go, so it slipped away from him and landed with a clang on the table, upsetting her cup. She giggled, righted the cup, and refilled it again.

"Thank you, Shandra," Casavir said hesitantly, sitting down himself. "What is it?"

"It's a puzzle," she said. "Jacoby helped me make it. You gotta get the iron ring out, off the thingy that looks like a tongue. The other rings move around a bit, but only one ring will come off. At least I think only one ring will come off. Jacoby showed me how to work it, but I forget. So if you get stuck, you'll have to wait until tomorrow when his shop's open, 'cause I don't remember."

"That's okay, sweets," Bishop said, grinning broadly and patting her hand. "We'll just leave his holiness to play with his new toy, and you two ladies lean in close, and I'll tell you the one about the paladin, the goat, and the dryad. First one to guess the punchline gets a kiss from yours truly."

"I hardly think that's an appropriate tale for the ladies," Casavir protested.

"You can leave if you want," Bishop laughed, "but I'm telling you, the goat didn't mind all that much. Yeah, he probably never buggered a paladin before, but it was something to tell the kids."

Casavir stood up abruptly, sloshing ale from his horn onto Kayla. He sputtered apologies, and tried to brush off the ale, but most of it had gone down the front of her gown, so he stopped quickly, and stared at his feet.

"Come away, my lady," he said at last. "You should not have to listen to this."

"It's all right, Cas," Kayla sighed. "Sit down, please, and pretend Bishop is just another drunk with a pack full of bad jokes."

"So what am I supposed to pretend he is?" Bishop snorted. "A man?"

"If you like," Kayla smiled. "Cas, why don't you pass around that horn again, lighten it a little. I could do with another drink."

For a moment, Casavir looked like he might refuse. If he passed the horn, it would come to Bishop, and he did not look eager to share his drink with the ranger. But he grimaced something that might have been a smile of acquiescence and handed his horn first to Shandra.

"Your lips touch it last," he whispered in Kayla's ear. He left his chin there for several heartbeats, resting on her shoulder. She felt his arm creep surreptitiously around her, and he drew her closer to him on the bench, until her hip touched his.

The horn made more than one trip around the table. On its fourth pass, Kayla had to stand up to drink from it, since it was finally starting to feel empty, but she was careless, and forgot to keep the pointed end down. As it happened, there was still a good deal more in the horn than she thought. It hit her in the face like a wave, and sloshed in her hair and down the front of her dress.

"Oh, well, that's just wonderful," she groaned. "Sorry about wasting all your ale, Cas."

"Do not fret over that, my lady," Casavir replied, though she could see he was stifling a smile. "I fear your gown is ruined."

"It's had ale on it before," she sighed. "But I'd better go change."

"I will walk you to your room," Casavir volunteered, ignoring snickers from Shandra and Bishop.

"It's all right, Cas," Kayla protested. "I know where it is."

"Yes, my lady," Casavir agreed, scooping the iron puzzle off the table. "But I insist."

He offered his arm and led her back up the stairs.

She had drunk more than she thought, she found, as it took her two tries to get the key in the lock, and nearly snapped it off before she discovered that she was turning the key the wrong way.

"I will just wait here for you," Casavir said nervously.

"Don't be silly, Cas," she replied. "You've come this far. You make yourself comfortable, and I'll change behind the screen."

Her room was dark. She set his presents down on the floor and fumbled with the tinderbox for a while before giving up and opening the Sphere of Invocation. It seemed trivial, using its light for something as mundane as lighting a room when she was too drunk to work the tinderbox, but she reflected that Casavir had chosen it in the first place because it would allow her to navigate the campsite without breaking her neck in the dark. Granted, he intended that she should use it while praying, and she did, but it had other, less lofty uses, as well.

She set the Sphere back on the washstand, went behind the screen, and heard Casavir settle himself in a chair to wait.

* * *

Casavir looked around the room. It was smaller than her lodgings at the Sunken Flagon, of course, but in some ways, she had made it look more homey. Since she would be moving to the Keep, she had begun to collect ornaments. It was nothing much, a scarf draped over a mirror, a set of brushes and combs arranged on the dressing table, an empty vase on the table, but the subtle touches made the room feel much more personal than her room at the Sunken Flagon ever had. And there was her scent. Except for those three months they had spent at the Flagon between Greengrass and Midsummer, she had never spent more than a couple days at a time in the room. She had been living in this one for over two months now, and the room smelled of the perfume Sand made for her, and of wax candles and soap, and the faint, acrid smell of ink, and only a little of the gambeson that hung from the armor rack in the corner. He could sit in the room forever, just breathing.

Something flashed on the table near the vase. There was a locket there. Curiosity battled propriety for a moment. He should respect her privacy, he knew, but he longed to see what the locket contained. Was it a lock of hair? Whose? She had never asked him for one. Short as his hair was, he would have noticed if she had cut it while he was sleeping. Was it Bishop's? He wore his hair short, too, but disheveled as the ranger's hair usually was, Casavir would never have noticed if it sported one more unruly patch where hair had been cut unevenly. And she had been uncommonly tolerant of Bishop, lately, and Casavir's duties as her personal aide often did take him far away from her, during the course of a day. And even when he had no official tasks to take him from her side, he often went far afield with Khelgar, training together or fishing, or cutting firewood. Were they... no, she had kissed him often, today. She would not have done that if she were...

_Stop tearing yourself apart and open the damn locket._

His own face looked back at him. The miniature was not done with any great skill, but it was passable, and unmistakably him. He snapped the locket closed and held it tightly in his fist. Relief washed over him, followed swiftly by embarrassment. This was a secret thing, something she had not wanted him to see, but he had pried because he was jealous. He really should be ashamed of himself.

She had come out from behind the screen. She wore only her chemise, and the amber light of the Sphere of Invocation shone behind her, making her hair glow copper-gold and showing her figure through the luminous cloud of her linen chemise.

He could only stare mutely as she crossed the room and seated herself on his lap. He put his arm around her back to steady her, but she just took his other hand... the one that still held her locket... and stroked it.

"What have you got, dear one?" she breathed.

Guiltily, he opened his hand.

"Oh, so you've seen that, have you?" she laughed softly. "Grobnar made it for me. I didn't know he could draw, but I like it... I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all, my lady," he said, once he found his voice. "I am honored that you would wear my token, as I wear yours."

He reached out and tried to loop it over her head, but she had to help him when it tangled in her hair. She put her arms around his neck, then, and looked into his eyes. His hand still rested on the locket where it hung between her breasts, but he paid heed to nothing but her face, so close to his own.

He was kissing her before he even knew he moved, and she responded to him, drinking his kiss and stroking his hair. Finally, their lips parted, but he only renewed his caresses on her throat, savoring the softness of her skin against his lips. His hand fumbled at the drawstring on the top of her chemise, loosening it, and he eased the fabric over her bare shoulder. He could feel her slender bosom trembling under his touch, but the drink made him fearless. He stroked her places he never would have dared, sober, but she yielded to him, her sighs inviting him to even bolder caresses. She arched her back, allowing him to take her nipple between his lips. Her moan should have driven him wild... but something was wrong.

He should have been bursting from his clothing with the intimacy of their embrace, but he hung lifeless, flaccid as a wet rope. He drew her chemise back over her shoulder and lay his cheek against her bosom, groaning at his impotence.

"I'm sorry, Cas," she gasped. "Too much?"

"Aye," he moaned. "Too much drink. Forgive me, my lady, I'm useless."

"Cas?" she asked anxiously. "I don't understand. Are you all right?"

He sighed. Of all the things he might have expected to say to her over the course of their lives, none of them involved explaining the effect of too much firewhiskey and ale on the male anatomy. But how else would she know?

"I have indulged too freely," he said sadly. "I cannot rise."

"Oh," she sighed, but her arms tightened around him, and she lay her cheek against his hair. "I'm sorry, Cas. Would an antidote help? Or I could cast a Neutralize Poison."

"It would," he admitted, "but then I should remember why I should not be holding you so closely. And I do remember. I am sorry, my lady. It is as well my inebriation has saved your virtue."

"Oh, Cas," she moaned, "please don't think of that now. Just let me think that the only thing holding you back was the drink, just this once, all right?"

"My lady..." he began, preparing to tell her why he should have more care for her chastity, but he stopped himself. He really should just stop talking, right now. "As you wish... though perhaps you should cast that spell. I fear that drunkenness will turn to illness before much more of the evening has passed. My stomach is no better suited to drink than my head... or my... well..."

"I know, Cas," she said gently, and stood up.

He buried his face in his hands and waited for her to cast the spell.

A moment later, he felt clear-headed again. He looked up, but she was already gone. He heard rustling behind the screen, like she was drawing a gown over her head. When she emerged, she wore a stark black gown that he liked not at all. It sucked what little color she had from her cheeks and made her look wan and tired. But she must wear something, he knew, and he had seen her wear few winter gowns. She had a triangular flask in her hands, an antidote.

"I'm as bad as you, or worse," she said. "I know it's too early to turn in, so we both might as well go back down with clear heads."

She drank the antidote and shuddered at the taste.

"There," she said. "Shall we see who's left standing?"

"May I leave my presents here?" he asked. "I am grateful for their generosity, of course, but boots and chess sets and gauntlets and bits of twisted iron are bulky things to carry around... and the horn... must I refill that tonight, do you think?"

"You should carry it," she smiled. "Khelgar will miss it if you don't have it in your hand. But that doesn't mean you have to fill it."

"Very well," he agreed. "We will leave the horn empty, and I will drink from your cup, and we will wake tomorrow with clear heads."

"Er... Cas," she said softly, catching his sleeve before he reached the door, "do you remember what you were doing before I cast the spell on you?"

"Yes," he sighed. "I am ashamed of the liberties I took with your person... and other things."

"Don't be, dear one," she said, embracing him and laying her cheek against his chest. "I only wanted to tell you that I liked it. I didn't want you to stop. I understand why you had to, and I understand why you can't do it now, but that doesn't mean that I didn't love every moment of it. I loved being close to you like that."

Even as he raised his arms to return her embrace, something stirred in his memory, some dim, shadowy recollection of another night when he had drunk far more than was wise... he really must stop doing that. She had said something, something that had thrilled him, filled him with wonder and joy, and a thousand brilliant emotions... right before he forgot what it was.

"My lady," he whispered, "that night after the Trial by Combat, the last we spent in the same bed, you said something to me, something that moved me to great emotion. What did you say?"

"Do you expect me to remember, if you do not?" she replied very quickly. "You were at a low ebb, dear one, and drunk and weary, besides. I could have said anything to you, and it would have moved you."

"Perhaps you are right," he sighed. "But I wish you would tell me, nonetheless."

She raised her face to look at him.

"When you are ready, I will," she answered cryptically.

"How will you know when I am ready?" he asked.

She ran an adventurous fingertip down his abdomen and halted it just past his navel. He flinched and grabbed at her hand, but he did not retreat... not this time.

"I will know," she replied. "Believe me, I'll know. And you _are_ getting closer."

"Very well," he chuckled, "keep your secrets. But blame me not if I grow impatient."

"I can only hope," she smiled. "Come on, Cas, your admirers await."

She took his arm, and he led her back down to the common room. To his infinite relief, Bishop was gone. To his bafflement, so was Shandra. Khelgar, Neeshka, and, to his surprise, Zhjaeve were sitting in their place.

"Well, now, here's the man hisself," Khelgar slurred amiably. "Was just tellin' Zhjaeve here 'bout how you'd ducked off with Lala and we shouldn't be expectin' you back anytime soon. Guess I was wrong."

"Is that the same dress?" Neeshka giggled.

"An ale-related accident," The Lady replied, laughing. "I forgot to keep the point down."

"Amateurs," Khelgar rumbled. "Wastin' all that ale. Ah, well. There's more. Have you got some, or do you need a refill."

"I thank you, Khelgar," Casavir replied, "but I should rather drink from the Captain's cup for a while."

With what felt like reckless abandon, he seated himself on an empty stool and pulled her down to sit on his lap. He was rewarded for his brazen behavior with a face full of hair, but he swept it aside and kissed her lightly on the neck before reaching for an empty cup. Her shiver at the caress was almost enough to make him pick her up and carry her back upstairs, but he steadied his nerves and held out the cup to Neeshka.

Neeshka filled it for him, but he could see her smile.

What was he thinking? He was sober now. He should not be wondering whether he might be able to persuade The Lady to allow him to resume where he left off. But like it or not, that was the mood that had taken hold of him tonight. If he were bolder than usual, well, it was his adopted birthday. As long as he drank moderately, he would always be able to stop himself before he went too far.

"Have you been enjoying the party, Zhjaeve?" The Lady asked the Githzerai politely.

"I am unfamiliar with the customs of your land," Zhjaeve answered in her pleasant, husky voice, "but the Midwinter festival is a enjoyable. I understand that it is customary for people to gather and feast at the prospect of warmer months ahead."

"It's as good a reason as any to drink," Khelgar agreed with a belch. "So, Zhjaeve, you want another ale?"

"Thank you, but no," she replied. "I preferred the wine I tried earlier."

"I'll have one, too," Qara announced, pulling a chair up beside Khelgar. She turned and looked at Casavir, then stared, when she saw The Lady seated on his lap. "How much has _he_ had?"

"Ah, cut him some slack," Neeshka said. "It's his birthday. Not that I expect you to remember."

"Is it?" Qara sniffed. "I thought you stopped counting, after you got past _decrepit_."

"Someday, Qara, you, too, shall be as old as I," Casavir replied, ignoring the insult.

"If nobody kills her first," Neeshka quipped under her breath.

Casavir just smiled beatifically and drew The Lady closer against his body. His legs were falling asleep, but it felt good, holding her like this.

"Somebody should get Qara and Zhjaeve their drinks," she said, rising despite his half-formed protests. "I'll go."

He grumbled a little at the chilly air that was now able to reach his legs, but she returned quickly, with a bottle and two cups. She set one down in front of each woman and poured the wine. She reached for a chair, but Casavir took her hand again, and guided her down to sit on his lap again.

"What has gotten into you, Cas?" she whispered. "I know you're sober."

"Yes," he agreed happily, wrapping his free arm around her and placing the cup in her hands.

"That really is disgusting," Qara said disapprovingly. "You should be ashamed of yourself, carrying on in front of everybody."

"Yet, strangely, I am not," Casavir replied contentedly.

Khelgar let out a bark of laughter and clapped him on the shoulder.

"You're just jealous," Neeshka snorted. "And who was that I saw you talking to before? It didn't look like you were being too careful about where you put your hands."

"Some _trader_," Qara sniffed, as if the very idea was now repulsive, "_far_ too crude for me. But he might do for you, if he didn't mind slumming, that is."

"You watch your tongue, Qara," Khelgar rumbled.

"Or what?" Qara retorted.

Casavir lost the thread of their argument. As he so often did when Neeshka, Khelgar, and Qara bickered, he allowed his mind to wander. It found pleasant avenues, this time, sunlit lanes through well-tended gardens and neat little cottages with brightly-painted doors. He sighed, closed his eyes, and rested his cheek against The Lady's hair.

"Come on, Cas," he heard her say. "Let's get you up to bed."

"All right," he agreed, though he was too content to move.

She got up. He tried to tighten his arms around her, to make her stay where she was, but she was already standing, and reaching down to him. He took her hand.

She led him to the stair, then to his door. There, she embraced him.

"Did you enjoy your birthday?" she asked him.

"I could not have enjoyed it more," he said sleepily, but with utter conviction.

"Do you want me to help you to bed?" she offered.

"Yes," he sighed, "very much, but I must refuse. I would only ask you to stay."

"I would, you know," she said gently.

"And that is why I must decline," he sighed. "I would seek contentment in your arms, and you would give it, and I would be tempted... and we would argue. Let me go to sleep thinking only of how much I will treasure the memories of today."

"Then I will, too," she smiled at him. "Sleep well, dearest, and I'll see you when you wake."

She kissed him, then, and tenderly, but it was sweet and chaste, and filled his heart with peace.

"Sleep well, Kayla," he whispered.

For a moment, her eyes brightened, and she looked like she might speak, but she kissed his hand, kissed his chest over the top of his tunic, and closed the door behind her.

Casavir smiled at the closed door, then put on his new nightshirt and crawled under his blankets. For a while, he looked at the shadows moving across the ceiling, and listened to the sounds of the Phoenix Trail growing quiet around him, and thought about every smile he had felt, and every smile he had seen on the faces of others, but eventually, he drifted off to sleep.

Once more, he dreamed of gardens and cottages, but this time, it was sunset, and he was walking away from them, toward the lighted doorway of the Keep, and a smiling woman waving greetings to him and holding out her arms in welcome. He was coming home.


End file.
